Categories > Original > Drama


by BloodyAbattoir 0 reviews

Life is but a dream for the dead, something far off and foggy, mostly forgotten.

Category: Drama - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst - Published: 2014-09-25 - 1119 words - Complete

Life is but a dream for the dead, something far off and foggy, mostly forgotten.

The feelings that used to make you feel on top of the world barely make you crack a smile. What used to make you want to die of humiliation can't even cause you to blush, and what used to make you weep for days only causes the very corner of your mouth to turn downwards.

You can't quite recall the faces of your family and friends, blurry as they are, and your recollection of their voices sound like they're under a vast lake of water. Their very names hardly draw much, if any recognition. In fact, you can't remember much of them, except that at one point, you had parents, a younger sister, and several good friends.

The memories, too, have grown faded around the edges like a worn, tattered photograph from decades past. The colors are mostly gone from them, the majority being left sepia-toned and others black and white. Some of your memories have disappeared as well. You're not quite sure how many are gone, because remembering takes so much effort. In fact, because you can't remember correctly, and because you can't feel anything when you do, you no longer quite care that you're losing your memories, or that you can't remember at all.

You can't remember your first kiss, or your favorite teacher. You can't remember your graduation from elementary school, or the boy that always used to make you cry. You can't remember your first girlfriend, or the first time you said you loved her. You can't remember the last time you saw your parents, or the smell of your mother's perfume. You can't remember the names of the little fish in the tank in the corner of your room, or what species they even were.

You can barely remember the family dog who died when you were 11, who you cried over for weeks after. The name of your best friend since kindergarten barely stirs a recollection. All your dreams and hopes are forgotten, locked in boxes high on a shelf in your mind, slowly dying, dusty and forgotten. Soon, they'll be dead. You can't bring yourself to care.

Long gone are the memories of spending summer days at the beach, or going fishing with your father on the weekends. Faded are the recollections of spending long days in the library, hiding from the world among the shelves of fantasy and mystery. The face of the librarian who was always nice to you and gave you advice is blurred. You can't quite bring to the front of your mind the titles of the books that you'd read until they were dog-earred and tattered.

It's not just the good parts that are gone. The bad parts are gone, too.

You can't remember your first heartbreak. The vague remembrance of the boy who left you for a girl 3 inches taller and 30 pounds lighter doesn't perturbe you anymore. Your sworn enemies are nothing more but hardly remembered names and shadowy forms. What were their names again?

You can't remember the time that you made an ass of yourself in front of the entire 7th grade class by not remembering your part in a presentation, nor the time in 10th grade when you forgot the lines in the middle of opening night of the play. You can't remember all the times that your parents screamed at you for wrongdoings, the time you snuck out, the times you failed tests.

You can't remember the pain of breaking your arm, or the emotions that were flowing through you when you took a bottle of aspirin. You can't remember the time that you broke your nose or the time that one of your closest friends disowned you. Neither can you recall the time you were told you were going to be absolutely nothing.

Most of all, you can't remember who you were, or where you were going.

You can't remember the younger version of you, 4 years old, who believed that one day she might see fairies and dragons. Neither can you recall the 6 year old you, a skinny little thing who had few friends and immersed herself in thick novels. You can't remember the 8 year old you, who still believed in dragons and wizards and loved to play outside. Gone is the 10 year old you, a bookworm with thick glasses, who couldn't stay out of the pools on the weekends.

Gone, too, is the willful 11 year old you, who rebelled against everything, or the 12 year old you who would do anything to make people like her. The 13 and 14 year old you are vague shadows, depressed and making bad choices. The 15 year old you who tried turning her life around, and the 16 year old who made a drastic decision, but entirely changed everything from two years prior are blurry around the edges, and they're fading fast.

You don't remember what you were supposed to be, where you were going. The people you were supposed to help. The career you were supposed to have. The changes you would make in this world. None of it matters to you anymore. Even if someone were to tell you all of this, it wouldn't make any of it matter anymore. It would be like hearing about someone else.

You wanted to stop remembering the negative aspects of your life, you made a wish, thinking that wishes never came through. After all, when you wished for positive things, they never happened. Why would this time be any different?

You didn't realize that when you made that wish, that it would be the one wish that would come through. Be careful what you wish for, they always said. You just might get it, they said. After a while of wishing, you stopped believing them. This time, however, they were right, and your wish did come through. You stopped remembering the negative aspects of your life.

But as with all things, the good and the bad must go together. Without the bad, there can be no good, without the dark there can be no light. When you wished you didn't remember the negative, your wish came through. You could no longer remember the negative aspects of your life. However, you started to lose the positive aspects as well.

Now, you're nothing but an empty shell.

You're dead now, your soul having left with your memories and your wishes and desires.

Some of your memories are still there, however, foggy and blurry, barely remembered, just like a dream.

Just a little something from the quote by Gerard Way, "Life is but a dream for the dead". Please do comment and let me know what you think.
Sign up to rate and review this story